


Different, but Good

by Smooty



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, First Times, Just be warned he's had a few drinks, M/M, Murdoc's like... 24?, but he's not that drunk, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 15:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19704100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smooty/pseuds/Smooty
Summary: The pub was dingy and dark, just the way Murdoc liked it. He sat at the bar, a glass of their cheapest whiskey clasped nervously in his hands. It’d been emptied and refilled a couple of times. The bartender had no idea he intended to skip out on his bill. But Murdoc wasn’t really thinking about that yet because of the guy in the corner. The one who’d been staring at him all night.





	Different, but Good

The pub was dingy and dark, just the way Murdoc liked it. He sat at the bar, a glass of their cheapest whiskey clasped nervously in his hands. It’d been emptied and refilled a couple of times. The bartender had no idea he intended to skip out on his bill. But Murdoc wasn’t really thinking about that yet because of the guy in the corner. The one who’d been staring at him all night. 

He’d come in after Murdoc was on his second drink, but before the bassist had gotten so drunk he couldn't see straight. He was older, but not too old based on his outfit. Beyond that it was hard to see anything, the lighting was so shit. The moment the man had taken a seat at the other end of the bar Murdoc had felt eyes on him, that particular prickling at the back of his neck. It wasn't unpleasant, but the Satanist wished  _ something _ would happen already. The suspense was killing him. 

Just as he was about to order his 4th glass the bartender dropped one down in front of him. Thinking the bartender had picked up on the fact Murdoc was going to be drinking for a while, he didn’t think twice before taking a sip. Immediately he noticed the difference, despite his slight inebriation. This much much higher quality stuff than what he’d been ordering. The bartender noticed his surprise and shrugged. 

“The gentleman over there paid for it.” Immediately Murdoc felt his stomach warm, though that may have been the top-shelf whiskey. He glanced over at the man, who was still staring, and nodded, smiling around the glass in a way he hoped was charming. The man smirked back, his gaze even sharper than before. Murdoc nodded again, this time towards the bathroom sign behind him. He didn’t wait to see if the man would follow before getting up, tossing back his drink, and sauntering to the back of the bar. 

The toilets were as you would expect from a seedy pub; dark and dingy with at least one blocked toilet. The one that wasn’t blocked has a broken door, which left just one stall useable. Murdoc took that one and closed the door behind him, not locking it. A few seconds later he heard the main door open again and grinned to himself nervously.

Shortly after the door of his stall opened and shut, the lock clicking loudly. Murdoc turned around and was promptly shoved against the wall, pinned by a large, calloused hand. The stench of stale beer filled his nostrils nearly drowning out the piss-soaked bathroom. 

The man didn’t say anything, didn’t ask Murdoc any questions which was alright with the bassist. Rough lips slanted across his in a way that reminded him of a girlfriend he’d had back in Stoke, but a bit more forceful. It was good. The hands pulling at his belt were good too. Practised. 

“You got…?” the man trailed off, moving to bite at Murdoc’s neck, those hands now working his trousers and pants down around his thighs. Murdoc nodded and reached down back into his pocket, producing a condom and a packet of lube. The man snatched up both and began to undo his own trousers. Murdoc took the moment to flip around, knowing from stories that things would be easier this way. A burble of excitement rumbled in his gut, and he hoped it was good and not the whiskey coming back to say hello. He hid his discomfort with a lecherous grin, letting his tongue hang out desperately. 

The man took his sweet time, and Murdoc had to reach a hand down to stroke himself to keep his nerves from making him go soft. The sudden appearance of a slick finger against his arse made him jerk and knock his chin against the wall. It felt different than when he’d tried this himself.

“Cute,” the man huffed and Murdoc felt his face go red with the shame of it. Normally he would have had a biting comment or a nasty come back ready to go, but just then the man stuck his finger inside him and pressed expertly. The Satanist grunted but remained silent as the man laughed and slipped another one inside, the burn nearly more painful than pleasurable. 

“Fuck...” Murdoc breathed, the first word he’d said since entering the bathroom. This was going pretty much like he’d figured, but it was so much better than he’d been led to believe. It wasn’t like with most of the girls, he wasn’t the one in charge. It was unsettling, but also really fucking arousing. 

Before it really started feeling good the man was yanking his fingers out and forcing Murdoc to bend more. The bassist went without complaint, his head cloudy with lust and alcohol. This was it, the moment he’d been thinking about for years. Years spent under his father's thumb, denying who he was. He thanks Satan below he was out of Stoke.

The man didn’t give him any warning. One minute his hands were on Murdoc’s hips, the next they were guiding something hot and throbbing inside him. It hurt, it hurt so much that for a second Murdoc actually whined. It was so overwhelming he didn’t know if it was good or bad. It just was. Then the stranger moved and it was good, so good Murdoc had to bite his lip to stop an embarrassing noise from escaping. 

“S’tight,” the man groaned, thrusting brutally into Murdoc. “Relax.” Murdoc was doing his best, but everything was so much. He wanted to reach down and take himself in hand but his fingers weren’t willing to detach from their grip on his jacket. Could the man tell this was the first time he’d done this? Should he be doing something more than just fighting the urge to fall to his knees? He didn’t have to worry about it because the man was reaching around and down, jerking the bassist off in a sort of half-hearted way. It was enough. 

“F-fuck!” A second word, same as the first. Louder and more broken than the first too. Heat was rising up and radiating outward through Murdoc’s whole body from the point where they were connected. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he pushed back into the thrusts with as much force as he could muster. Judging by the sounds from behind his efforts were appreciated. 

With one final thrust and a low groan, the man came, leaving Murdoc to wrestle with the all-new sensation of being come in. Murdoc’s body shuddered of its own volition and he came all over the stall wall with a whimper. For a brief second Murdoc wished he’d forgone the condom and let the man really come inside him, but then the moment was over and the pleasure subsided and he was grateful for the easy cleanup. The stranger was already pulling away, tossing the condom on the floor and zipping his pants silently. 

“What, no goodbye kiss?” Murdoc rasped, finally able to pull together enough brainpower. The man huffed, but Murdoc didn’t look back to see what kind of emotion matched the noise. Instead, he busied himself with drawing up his trousers and wiping off his hand on the already dirty wall. The stall door creaked open, followed by the main door of the washroom. He was alone again. 

It was a relief, really. It meant he could sag a little, arching his back to find a position that didn’t put quite so much pressure on his now sore arse. It allowed him to stiffly ease himself back into his trousers and limp out of the washroom at a slow and easy pace. He’d chosen this bar specifically because it had a back door--you never knew when you might need to make a quick exit in these situations--and he took that. The alleyway was cold and smelled like piss, just like the bathroom. 

Murdoc had parked his car pretty far away to avoid being seen parking around a bar with  _ that _ kind of reputation, which he was now regretting. With each step, his back was pinching and there was a sharp burning in his nether regions. It was taking all his drunken willpower to keep from limping too obviously. But he didn’t regret it, no. In fact, he was already planning on coming back after a respectable amount of time had passed. A week maybe, or a few days at least. 

As he approached his car and caught a glance of himself in the window reflection, he startled. His neck was covered in hickes, his hair touseled into a perfect example of “sex hair”. There was no way everyone in the bar hadn’t known what they’d been doing when he marched out of those toilets. Surprisingly, the idea was more exciting than mortifying. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he came back tomorrow night...


End file.
